


Here it's perfectly dark

by ohfreckle



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Belly Kink, Established Relationship, M/M, Mpreg, Possessive Behavior, Pregnant Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-28
Updated: 2012-08-28
Packaged: 2017-11-13 02:20:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohfreckle/pseuds/ohfreckle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>„<i>Motherfucker</i>,“ Arthur hisses at him, his cheeks and the tips of his ears tinted a lovely shade of pink. „You are <i>not</i> discussing having sex with me with our baby.“</p><p>Eames just laughs at him, so fucking happy because he’s going to be a dad together with this fierce and wonderful man, and squeezes Arthur’s cock that’s growing rapidly harder under his hand. He bends and blows a raspberry on Arthur’s stomach that, to Eames’ utter delight, has Arthur shrieking with surprised laughter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here it's perfectly dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eternalsojourn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalsojourn/gifts).



> Written for eternalsojourn's [Procreation Celebration Fest](http://eternalsojourn.livejournal.com/17280.html). That's all the excuse I have. That and my love for Arthur in skimpy clothes.  
> Beta by the lovely waxedpaperdoor.

"I'm home, darling!"

There’s no response. Arthur is probably in the bathroom, which is quite an usual occurrence these days.

Eames hangs up his jacket and puts his keys in the little bowl on the table in the hallway. Better be safe than sorry with Arthur in one of his phases of excessive tidiness.

He’s on his way to the kitchen to put away the groceries he just bought, when he hears asound from the living room.

Arthur is lying on the sofa, his back to the door, tightly wrapped in the Burberry quilt Eames’ mother gave them for their housewarming. It’s horribly boring, all browns and beiges, but Arthur thinks it’s fashionable and claimed it immediately as his own, thus it stayed. Eames has learned to pick his domestic fights and this wasn’t one of them. Right now the ugly thing covers Arthur so completely that only his hair and the top of his ears are peaking out.

"Arrrthur," Eames sing-songs, "I have the cheese pretzels you wanted.“

He proudly brandishes the bag from their favorite bakery with the pretzels Arthur sent him to get. The paper is slightly greasy from the cheese and looks quite unappealing, but the smell of the greasy pastries inside is delicious.

"Take them away, I don't want them anymore," comes the slightly muffled response from the Arthur-shaped lump on the sofa.

"Darling," Eames sighs patiently. „An hour ago you said you were dying without them. I almost had to kill the gentleman in front of me who wanted the last two pretzels."

Apparently his efforts aren't appreciated in the slightest, because Arthur only grunts and pulls the quilt a little tighter around him.

"I nicked his wallet to distract him, so I could ask for them first.“

"I can't eat them."

Now Eames is starting to get a littleworried. Arthur has neverbeen a particularly strong eater, but so far his appetite through the pregnancy has been exceptionally healthy, much to his doctor's satisfaction.

"Are you sick? Do you want me to call Dr. Rosenbaum?" Eames asks, sitting down next to the mountain of quilt. He lays a comforting hand on what he assumes is Arthur's shoulder, only to have it shrugged off with a huff.

"I'm not sick, leave me alone," Arthur hisses from under his blanket.

„Care to enlighten me then, Arthur? Can I get you something else? How about those truffles you liked?" Eames is beginning to feel slightly out of his depth here.

Cobb, out of all the people, warned him about mood swings. The whole ordeal had been terribly awkward and embarrassing. Cobb kept threatening to turn Eames over to the authorities if he hurt Arthur, in between explanations about pregnancy cravings and the best choice of nursing pads. It's just Eames' luck that now turns out to be the one time Cobb is right.

Eames decides that for now giving Arthur some space is probably the best option, actually for both of them, and gets up to put the groceries away.

"By the way, Saito called while I was out," he says, already halfway out of the room. He almost forgot to tell Arthur over the sudden pretzel crisis. "He's in town and invited us for dinner tomorrow."

There’s a sudden flurry of movement on the sofa. Arthur throws the quilt back like it burned him and sits up, slightly hindered by his belly and a lot slower than he probably would have liked.

"And you are asking me what is wrong. _This_ is wrong," Arthur spits. He gestures in the general vicinity of his body, cheeks flushed in obvious agitation. His eyes are a little red, and Eames thinks for a horrifying moment that he looks like he has cried.

"But —you’re losing me here, Arthur. A little help?" Eames says, not quite able to see Arthur’s point.

Arthur is wearing only boxers and a simple white t-shirt that clings tightly to his visibly rounded belly, riding up a little and exposing a tempting strip of skin. He’s gorgeous, his face and the curves of his body a little softer with the added weight. It makes him look vibrant and healthy, alive. Eames lives with a constant need to touch him, to make sure that they really did something so unexpected and wonderful together, and now is no different.

„I beg your pardon, love, but I can’t see anything wrong.“ He quickly crosses the short distance between them and pulls Arthur against him with a hand on his hip. At least that is what he means to do, but Arthur twists away from him.

„You never to lie me, so don’t start now. I’m ugly like this.“ Arthur puts an arm aroundhis middle as if that would suddenly make the round bump disappear. „I’m _fat_.“

Eames is completely stunned. Arthur has always been confident about his looks, maybe even to a fault, and it’s outrageous that Arthur would think something like this. Eames still contemplates his answer — because how is he even supposed to respond to that —when Arthur shoots him a murderous glance. Eames is unsure whether he was too slow to disagree or if Arthur actually wants him to stay silent. Knowing Arthur, probably both.

„So you agree. I’m fat.“ An angry sniffle. „I don’t even have pants that fit me anymore. How am I supposed to go out with Saito without pants? Wearing your baggy sweatpants?“

Arthur’s voice is growing louder and more irritated with each word. Eames wants to ask him if that’s why he’s running around the house in only his knickers or if it's solely to drive him slowly round the bend, but he strongly believes that suicide is undignified and now seems a bad time for jokes. Arthur looks completely miserable, mouth set in an unhappy line.

"You're not fat, love, and you could never be ugly. How can you even think that?"

Eames could say he's treading on eggshells, only it feels more like facing like some poor paranoid sod's projections, ready to blow him up any second. Rationally he knows that this is Arthur's hormones going haywire, which was bound to happen at some time, but it's still unsettling to see Arthur so rattled. It's... just not right.

Arthur doesn't deign to answer him. Instead he frowns a little and crosses his arms. He has to rest them on top of his rounded stomach and that combined with the too small shirt makes him look —fuck, Eames has no words for it, he just _adores_ him. People are right, pregnant women - and men, in this case - are truly beautiful. Eames isn't prone to catering to clichés, in fact he abhors them, but sod this, this is Arthur and it's true.

They're both silent. Eames' lack of witty remarks seems to be what convinces Arthur in the end that he’s being truthful.

"I'm sorry," Arthur says tiredly. "I guess signing up for the prenatal class yesterday made it somehow feel more real. God, Eames, what are we even doing?"

" We, my dear, are going to have the most beautiful baby," Eames grins. "She'll have your brilliant mind and my exceptionally good looks."

"And what exactly is wrong with my looks?" Arthur asks challengingly.

"Can't give her your ears. Sorry, love," Eames smirks, feeling bold now that the mood has somewhat lightened.

"Why I put up with you is really beyond me," Arthur says with a huff."And I really don't have pants that fit me."

He marches out of the living room without a word. Eames is at first too baffled and then too busy watching the firm globes of Arthur’s arse shift in those tight boxers to notice that he’s expected to follow. He catches up with Arthur in the bedroom and stops in his tracks when he takes in the state of the room. Then he can’t help laughing, a deep belly laugh of amusement, because that’s his Arthur.

The room is littered with all kinds of trousers, laid out over the two chairs and the bed, some even carelessly thrown on the floor. Arthur obviously doesn’t share Eames’ amusement and starts picking up several pairs of slacks from the bed and putting them on hangers.

„Not funny.“

„I know, darling,“ Eames says, mouth still twitching. „I’m sorry.“

He steps up behind Arthur and slides his arms around his middle, holding him close and nuzzling his neck. Arthur smells like sleep and the herbal shower gel he prefers, and Eames notices that the hair at his nape is damp and curly. Arthur must have showered while Eames was out. A shame that, Eames would have loved to share.

„I think it’s time we visit Feodor and have something tailored for you, hmm?“ Eames says, kissing Arthur’s cheek. Feodor is Arthur’s favorite tailor and they share a slightly unsettling mutual adoration that would make Eames jealous if he didn’t know that Feodor, despite his rather flamboyant appearance, is as straight as a ruler.

„I think maybe there is a reason I put up with you,“ Arthur says, turning his head so he can peck Eames on the lips. And there is the smile that Eames has been hoping for, frown gone and even a hint of dimples showing.

Arthur turns in Eames’s arms and kisses him with his hands on Eames’ cheeks, his lips soft and inviting. Eames groans his pleasure into Arthur’s mouth, pulling him tight against his chest because he can’t have him close enough. They kiss like that for a long time, sharing lazy kisses, tongues sliding wetly against each other. Content to be close.

When Arthur eventually breaks the kiss, slightly out of breath, Eames slides to his knees on a sudden impulse and strokes his palms over Arthur’s round belly. Arthur looks at him curiously, but he lets him, stroking a hand through his hair.

Eames rucks Arthur’s shirt up and lays his cheek on the crest of Arthur’s bare stomach. For a moment he just breathes him in, enjoys his familiar scent and the warmth of his skin. A wave of contentment and possessiveness washes over Eames and he’s so wildly grateful that he gets to have this, Arthur sharing his life, willing to carry his child — it’s so much he feels like bursting with it.

„Hello baby, here’s your dad,“ he says quietly, stroking his hands over Arthur’s hips. „Don’t mind darling daddy, he is a little upset today. He loves you very much, but carrying you around isn’t easy, that’s why he gets grumpy sometimes.“ Arthur tugs his hair, not too gently, and Eames doesn’t have to look up at him to know that he’s rolling his eyes.

„What do you think, baby,“ Eames continues, not deterred in the slightest. „I think we should give him a good time to make him smile again, and I know just the thing.“ He slides a hand down to where Arthur is slowly growing hard against his sternum and palms his balls through the cloth of his boxers.

Arthur tugs on his hair again, and Eames grins up at him over the swell of his stomach, completely unrepentant.

„ _Motherfucker_ ,“ Arthur hisses at him, his cheeks and the tips of his ears tinted a lovely shade of pink. „You are _not_ discussing having sex with me with our baby.“

Eames just laughs at him, so fucking happy because he’s going to be a dad together with this fierce and wonderful man, and squeezes Arthur’s cock that’s growing rapidly harder under his hand. He bends and blows a raspberry on Arthur’s stomach that, to Eames’ utter delight,has Arthur shrieking with surprised laughter.

„Arthur, love, I don’t think it’s my _talking_ that’s going to corrupt baby,“ Eames says, tugging teasingly at the waistband of Arthur’s boxers.

„You…,“ Arthur says. He sounds scandalized for the tiniest moment, but then he narrows his eyes at Eames. „Oh, fuck it, come here and kiss me, asshole.“ Eames does exactly that and winces at the pain in his knees; it’s definitely time to stop lazing around and hit the gym more frequently again.

He kisses Arthur, warm and wet and thorough. Eames can’t get enough air, but it’s essential that he keeps kissing Arthur. He licks deep into Arthur’s mouth and Arthur gives as good as he gets, sliding his tongue against Eames’ in a filthy caress.

Arthur’s hands fumble with Eames’ flies and Eames feels himself grow fully hard under the touch. He _wants_ , needs to fuck Arthur and mark him from inside so badly he can taste it.

Eames draws back with a last lick over the roof of Arthur’s mouth. Arthur looks completely undone, flushed, mouth red and slick and Eames _has_ to make him see just how beautiful he his. He turns Arthur so his back is against Eames’ chest and walks them both the few steps to the large mirror that faces the bed.

„So gorgeous,“ Eames whispers, smoothing Arthur’s shirt back down until it stretches tight over his chest and belly. Arthur lets his weight sag against him, and in the mirror Eames sees Arthur looking at Eames’ hand on the swell of his stomach before his eyes flit up to meet Eames’. Pregnancy won’t give Arthur real breasts, but his body is preparing to provide for a child and develops additional padding on his chest to help feeding the baby. Under the shirt it looks like the curve of small breasts with stiff nipples pushing against the fabric.

„Look at you,“ Eames murmurs, dragging his lips over Arthur’s shoulder, the smooth line of his throat. He cups the smallish mounds in his large hands and presses down hard, which earns him a quiet whine from Arthur. Eames marvels at the wonder that is Arthur’s body, enjoying the novelty of softness instead of hard muscle.

„Such beautiful titties. Christ, love, I can’t wait for them to be full of milk, gonna suckle them until you come from that alone.“ Arthur gasps a quiet _oh fuck, I want that_ ; his chest pushing forward into Eames’s hands, arse grinding back hard against the ridge of Eames’ cock. „Careful,“ Eames grits out. „Keep flaunting your tits and wriggling like that and I’ll just come all over your arse.“

Arthur brings a hand up into Eames’ hair and yanks hard. „Don’t you dare,“ he says in that quiet voice he only ever uses when he’s about to shoot someone, and, oh fuck, Eames feels his cock twitch. He’s always thought Arthur is hot when he means business, but having him here like this, flushed and eager in his arms — bugger all, Eames will end up with a boner every time Arthur uses that voice.

„Goddammit, Eames, I mean it,“ Arthur says, turning his head so he can lick Eames’ throat. „Get your cock in me, _now.“_

„So demanding,“ Eames chuckles against cheek. „I guess it’s true what they say about lusty pregnant women.“ He twists a nipple and Arthur goes boneless against him with a helpless groan.

„You’re shit out of luck then, no women here,“ Arthur hisses. „ _Now!_ “

Eames struggles out of his clothes, carelessly dropping everything to the floor in a wrinkled heap. Arthur is done in no time at all since he was delightfully underdressed to begin with. He just steps out of his his boxers and then he isn’t helpful at all, his fingers on Eames’ zipper more distraction than help in speeding things up. Eames scowls when he notices that Arthur obviously has not intention of removing his t-shirt. „Off with that,“ he grits out. „I am not fucking you with your shirt on.“

A mulish expression crosses Arthur’s face and he looks like he wants to argue, but in the end his cock wins over his insecurities and he lifts his arms to help Eames strip off the offending garment. Stripping turns into more kisses, but they make it to the bed eventually, with Arthur reclining against the headboard and spreading his legs wide to let Eames kneel between them.

„Darling,“ Eames says. „You’re four months pregnant. You’re _carrying my child_ , how could you be anything but beautiful?“ He takes Arthur’s hands and lays them on the sides of his stomach, covering them with his own. „Don’t ever take that away from me.“ Eames bends down and licks a wet stripe over the underside of Arthur’s belly, following the trail of wiry hair up to his navel. It’s still a shallow dip and Eames licks inside, causing Arthur, who’s ticklish as hell, to squirm and laugh.

Arthur withdraws one hand, strokes over Eames’s cheek and lifts his chin so Eames has to look up at him. He’s smiling, dimples and all, and Christ, the sight of him makes Eames’ heart flutter and do the most peculiar things inside his chest.

„Thank you,“ Arthur says softly. „For putting up with me. Sometimes I just feel a little — fuck that, I feel a _lot_ overwhelmed. I don’t want to fuck this up.“

„We won’t,“ Eames says simply, and really, it’s as easy as that. He drops a small kiss right on top of Arthur’s bump, and then both of Arthur’s hands are in his hair, encouraging and guiding him where it feels good. Eames follows his lead willingly, kissing and laving every bit of skin he can reach before he returns to Arthur’s navel and sucks a kiss into the spot right under it. He worries the skin with lips and teeth until he’s left a mark that’s already turning a dark red. Arthur whimpers, a high and needy sound, and keeps him right in place with his hands, back arching and feet skidding on the sheets.

„Mine,“ Eames rasps, stroking a rough thumb over the mark and pressing down. „You’re both mine and nobody’s going to take you away from me.“ It’s a promise, one Eames intends to keep at all costs.

„Yeah, yours,“ Arthur says, his voice rough. „Need you.“

„Come on, love, hands and knees,“ Eames murmurs. Arthur starts to turn on his stomach, getting a little awkwardly to his knees first because he can’t just roll over anymore. Eames stops him with a hand on his hip and guides him to face the foot of the bed instead. He’s pleased and, to his shame, also a little relieved to notice that Arthur seems to be ok with it.

In his haste to follow Eames barely remembers to grab the lube from its customary place under the pillow. Arthur already has arranged himself neatly, knees spread wide and arse in the air.

Oh fuck, Eames feels a rush of heat and his cock leak at the the sight of him - his arse sticking out, hard cock and tightly drawn balls hanging between his legs and behind that the rounded curve of his belly. Eames flushes hotly, his brain stuck in a litany of _mineminemine_. Arthur meets his gaze in the mirror in front of them, eyes bright and challenging, and Eames only keeps himself from coming with a vicious squeeze to his balls.

„Goddammit, Eames, what are you waiting for,“ Arthur hisses, punching the mattress with an impatient fist. Eames barks a laugh at this unexpected little fit, because yes, that’s his Arthur. He uncaps the lube in his hand and dribbles it straight down Arthur’s cleft, palming and squeezing one unusually lush cheek with his other hand, using the motion to spread Arthur’s arse a little wider.

He massages the small pucker with his thumb, loosening the tight clench of it until he can slip a finger inside easily. He works up to three fingers as quickly as he dares, too impatient for more than bare necessity. Arthur is tight around his fingers, so much more than usual, pregnancy changing his body in ways they hadn’t anticipated. Arthur rocks back against him, eyes closed and breathing heavily.

„In me. Get inside me, right the fuck now!“ Arthur gasps. He clenches tight around Eames, as if he’s trying to draw his fingers deeper. If Eames had any reservations about Arthur not being ready, he can’t remember what they were.

Eames lines himself up with one hand and pushes in slowly. God, he loves this, loves watching how the head of his cock breaches the tight furl of muscle and his shaft slides in inch by inch until he’s buried balls deep inside and Arthur’s rim is stretched wide around his girth.

He fucks Arthur slowly, deep strokes into Arthur’s tight heat that drive him mad with friction. Arthur slides back onto him, fucks himself languidly on Eames’s cock with breathless demands for „deeper, oh god, _deeper_.“

Eames groans, because Arthur begging shamelessly for his cock is the hottest thing he’s ever heard. He helps Arthur up until he’s kneeling over his lap, his back pressed to Eames’ chest. Eames fucks up into him, leaning back on his hands for more leverage. It’s slow because Eames’ thighs are burning with the strain, but it’s hard and deep with Arthur’s weight allowing him to sink down on Eames’ cock and take him that little bit deeper.

Arthur clenches tight around him when Eames hits his prostate and moans, sounding shocked and completely undone. Eames tries to keep that angle to draw more sounds like that from him, but when he looks at Arthur in the mirror he almost comes on the spot.

Arthur has one hand clenched in his own hair, the other pressing on the lower curve of his stomach. It’s something Arthur does often, pressing down on his prostate from the outside while Eames hits it from inside, and Eames realizes with a start how much more intense it must feel with the weight of the baby pressing down on it.

„Fuck, Arthur, you’re so hot like this,“ Eames gasps. „Come on, let me hear you.“

„ _Eames_ ,“ Arthur whines. „It’s deep, so much pressure — oh fuck, there. Again.“ His face is flushed a deep red, hips moving in small circles to find that perfect spot again. „It’s, oh god, it hurts, so good — ah, again.“

Eames kneels up again, because his thighs are killing him and it’s vital that he can use his hands to touch Arthur. „Christ, love,“ he pants, almost dizzy with arousal. He places one hand over Arthur’s on his belly, feeling hot skin and damp curly hair. Arthur’s cock is hard against the back of his hand, curved up and wetting both their hands. 

Eames has barely any leverage like this, but he grinds in, deep enough to make Arthur tense and come all over their hands and his belly. Arthur sobs, riding out the waves of pleasure and Eames kisses him through it, licking the cries out of his mouth until he’s spent and dripping.

Arthur goes when Eames makes him kneel again and pillows his head on his elbows, too boneless to keep himself up. „God, Arthur,“ Eames says, his voice rough and shaky, „gonna come so deep inside of you, I’ll put another baby in you.“

It only takes a couple of strokes and Eames comes so hard he almost feels faint with it. He pulls out when Arthur slaps his thigh. It’s much too soon, but Arthur complains that he can’t breathe. A small trickle of come leaks out of him and Eames rubs it into the skin of his cleft, unable to resist another chance to mark him.

They’re both too fucked out to move properly, but with a lot of groaning they make it eventually to the head of the bed.

„I’ll never be able to move again,“ Arthur sighs, squirming and wriggling until he finally decides that lying on his side is the least uncomfortable position for sleep. „Fuck this lusty pregnant women shit, we’re not going to have sex again until the baby is here ad I can move properly again. This is so fucking awkward.“

„Arthur,“ Eames says, scandalized at the very idea of not being able to touch Arthur. He knows the day will come soon enough, but he’s not prepared for it to be this soon.

„I didn’t hurt you, did I,“ he asks quietly, spooning Arthur from behind and curling protectively around him.

„God, no,“ Arthur says, squirming a little to fit himself better to Eames’ front. „I don’t think I could go without your cock for so long, but sex just became a lot more challenging.“

Eames chuckles, kissing his neck. He’s content, drowsy and already half-asleep. „Glad my cock and I can be of service.“

„Speaking of services,“ Arthur says with a tired yawn. „I really want those pretzels now.“


End file.
